Sorry, No Animals Here

I’m not an animal lover. No dogs; no cats; not even birds. Sorry, it is what it is. I’m not into anything that flies around and might drop unmentionable items on my head. I’m extremely allergic to cats—we won’t get into how bad things got when my husband was playing with a friend’s cat and I was sitting on the other side of him. It was four days to full recovery. As for dogs, I understand that when I was three and wanted to play with a dog, it stood up and put its front paws on my shoulders and probably licked my face. I was totally traumatized. I get really tense when there are dogs around but I have improved—trust me; and you can confirm it with both my daughters who have dogs, and my mother, who is in shock that I don’t run screaming from them.

Away From Me

Having said that, I don’t wish ill for any animals either. I just wish them elsewhere. I admire people who are into animals, and think most of them do a good job with their pets—including their fish. My problem is with people who believe that if I don’t like animals, I’m a terrible person, who must have evil in her heart. Yes, you know who I mean. I know several of those people, and find that I prefer not to be with them. Somehow I attract people who believe they can change my views—regardless of my opinion.

Where should I start? How about the young woman related to my husband who thought the best idea would be to plop a dog into my lap repeatedly so that I would learn to love him? Aside from the fact that I’m old enough to be her mother—my kids are older than her actually; she owed me some respect at least—what gives her the right to decide this for me? How about the young man who told me I really had to learn to love dogs because not loving them was just wrong. Never mind the fact that he doesn’t own any animals himself, although he does babysit dogs owned by some of his family members when necessary. I respect the fact that he feels he’s not home enough to adequately own another being, but he needs to learn to respect my views. I get that a lot.

My children both own dogs—from the same litter. No, they didn’t get shelter dogs but that was after a lot of research and soul-searching on their part. They know I’m not into animals, so when they come to my home, the dogs have been taught to stay away from “mom.” In fact, one day the water bowl was empty—yes, I even provide food and water for the dogs; I just don’t go near them—and when I went to refill it, one of the dogs sat down 6 feet away from me and waited until I was done and walked away before coming for a drink. My mother was hysterically laughing watching it. I call the dogs well trained and appreciate that their owners have done that for me.

I'm the People Person

So, why should I be told that I have to love animals? Some people I know who adore their pets won’t cross the street to help someone who needs help. Do only animals deserve help and love? Are all people no good, or just those who don’t like dogs/cats/insert name of whatever you have? If someone is drowning do you save their pets first and hope they can hold on until you can get back to them?

Sorry, but I’ll go for the person before the animal. You can hate me for it but remember…I’ll support your right to make your choices. Please don’t get crazy over mine.

Freelance Life

I am a freelance editor by trade. I’ve had staff positions, which definitely had some benefits I don’t have now, but I choose to freelance because it suits what is currently happening in my life. Having said that, I do mostly medical editing, which can be depressing because of the therapeutic areas I’ve worked in (reading material on trials of cancer drugs is particularly upsetting). Any work related to pediatric issues really bothers me, but I keep telling myself that at least cures are being worked on, and the best way to move them forward is to help them get things right when drugs are submitted.

The Pluses

Then again, there are some benefits to the freelance life. I recently read a posting on why people should have four-day workweeks. A lot of it made a great deal of sense but I have a few other ideas. First, my view of freelancing as a “have laptop, can work anywhere” idea. And I have. I once found work waiting for me when I got off a plane to visit my children and e-mailed back that I could get it to them by first thing in the morning since there was a time difference and I was going to work on it after I started the visit. I had dinner with the kids, hung out, and then did the work in my hotel room. Last October I spent time with my daughter and her husband after my granddaughter was born. My clients knew I was out of town but I never missed a deadline. I just got up early, got dressed, and worked until I got to take care of the baby, at which time almost all of the technology was put away. In the evening, when they had friends over to see the baby, I’d disappear and finish up anything that hadn’t been done earlier. Clients found the work waiting in their Inboxes when they came in since everyone was on a later time zone east of where I was.

Plus, with freelance I can pick and choose what I work on. If I don’t like a client, and have other work to fill in (always a big “if”), I can say no. As a staff editor, I had to deal with the accounts I was assigned to, and sometimes the teams weren’t all that nice.

And if I know I’ll need to take a couple of days—or even just hours--off, I just build them into my calendar. That means I have the flexibility to set my own schedule. I can now make a lunch date, and keep it.

The Minuses

But what’s the problem with freelance? It’s freelance. I spend a lot of time hoping work will come in. Clients call and ask me to hold time and then the work doesn’t appear—lately, I tell them I’ll put them on the calendar but if it’s not there when they say it will be, someone else immediately gets the slot. The fact that their client is three days—and sometimes three weeks--late getting back to them cannot be my problem. Like everyone else, I still have to pay my bills and put food on my table. And speaking of food, according to that posting, freelancers eat better. I’m not so sure of that. Sure, I’m not wandering past free food in a company kitchen, but my own kitchen is just downstairs and not everything in my house represents a perfect diet. I’m just as drawn by a piece of chocolate as anyone else I know, but I frequently do make an effort not to have it in the house.

Collections

Then there’s the issue of being paid. I do the job, I send the bill—or in a couple of cases I can submit the time digitally and their system has me on file so I can be paid on a regular schedule, which is not the norm—and then I wait. All of my bills very clearly give the client 30 days. It seems math, and how many days are in a month, is not that strong an area for a lot of people. Thirty days turn into 45 days—at which point I rebill—or into 60 days. I know one firm that has a policy of not paying people for 10 weeks, at a minimum. They won’t say that up front, but that’s what they do. Or, I’ve had the answer “We’ll pay you when the client pays us.” My answer, “When did you bill the client?” It turns out they haven’t done that yet. If you can meet payroll you can meet my bills. Don’t complain then when you can’t get freelancers to work for your firm. There is a network and word gets out on who the worst payers are. I really hate the nagging.

And then there’s the issue of finding work to begin with. I have a writer friend who will mention me to everyone who hires her—she’s also a freelancer. The thing is, most people don’t believe they need editors. Aside from the style issues, which in medical editing really do count, spell-check on your computer isn’t that reliable. Sentence structure does count though. And even if the job you have is only going to be seen by the sales reps, the material should make sense, and be spelled correctly. If there is no sense, the reps will get it wrong—and the FDA really doesn’t like that—and sound like they don’t know what they’re talking about.

Think about it. Your high school English teacher actually was right when he or she insisted that you make complete paragraphs. Writing well-formed sentences makes you sound like you know something even if you don’t.

Call me; I know where the commas go.

Far Away—But Still Connected

My children—and now my granddaughter--live in Denver; we live in New Jersey. It’s roughly 1700 miles apart. Why they live in Denver isn’t really the issue (it is, but I’ve learned to live with it). Fortunately, through the miracle of the phone (especially the cellphone) and the Internet, I can be in touch with them frequently. Sometimes probably a little too much.

But the distance doesn’t matter because it’s almost like they’re still here. Or at least, some of their “stuff” is. I literally just got the clothes in the closets completely cleared out by putting my foot down and demanding when they thought they’d be wearing the stuff that either no  longer fits or is so totally out of date they wouldn’t be caught dead in it. Some things went to Denver; the rest went to the donation box. But I still have accessories and books. Many, many books.

My daughters are both readers. The older one has actually winnowed the book inventory here down, but they’re still there. The younger one has a completely filled bookcase and can’t decide what to do. I don’t blame her; I don’t like to get rid of books either, but decisions have to be made. I’ve been purging “stuff” from the rest of the house for a couple of years—at one point, I had things at the curb for the “whatever” garbage pickups for 6 months in a row. I think the neighbors were expecting a “For Sale” sign on the front lawn at any moment, but we’re still here, and I have more to purge. Still, a lot is gone.

But what to do with books, and old school “stuff”. It’s a cord that stretches from the new home to the old, and one day it will have to be cut (metaphorically speaking). I’d like the snipping to happen sooner rather than later.

The latest purge of "stuff" started yesterday. 

Friend as Therapist         

Are you the class listener? The kid who didn’t talk a lot but sat and listened to everyone expound on school subjects, hair, who was dating whom? Maybe you were the person in the background doing a lot of the basic work so others could swoop in for the big picture? Now that you’re all grown up, are you the person people talk to—because you already know how to listen? I am.

There are talkers, and there are listeners. I’m in the second group. I also know how to keep my mouth shut, as in I try not to offer a lot of advice, and I don’t tell others about you, unless you want me to. This makes me an ex-officio therapist for some people. I’m still deciding whether that’s good or bad.

I like when people tell me things, thinking that they can trust me with what they are going through—and they can. I’m not sure I’m all that good with advice when it’s asked for, but I think a lot of people just want someone to listen. They know what they need to do to resolve a situation, but talking to yourself isn’t the same as telling another person. That makes it more real—and puts the talker into the position of doing something about it. After all, how many times can you tell the same story, have the same solution, and then do nothing about it? (Don’t try to answer that; we all know it can happen repeatedly.)

So, how do I handle the therapy issue? First, I try not to be looking at the person. I love the speaker phone because while I’m listening, I’m multi-tasking. For example, in a 20-minute rant from the phone, I can write an entire blog. Or I can get dressed—some calls are early in the morning. Or how about doing some cleaning, paying the bills—yes, a few of those still go by handwritten check left in an envelope in the mail box.

And how does the other person feel? Usually, better. They’ve had a chance to complain, whether about the same thing for the 12^th time or something new. They go off feeling better, and with some fresh views that they have figured out themselves on how to solve their problems—whether it’s the umpteenth rendition of that advice or something totally new. And more positive reinforcement for their actions, even if the “therapist” doesn’t agree.

Next patient!!